


Greensleeves

by a_lanart - the younger (a_lanart)



Series: The O'Niall Chronicles [18]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lanart/pseuds/a_lanart%20-%20the%20younger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siannon O'Niall reveals more about her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greensleeves

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to usenet in 1998.  
> Greensleeves is a traditional song, probably Elizabethan in origin, but there was a tradition at one point that it was written by Henry VIII for Anne Boleyn. I'm going with that tradition, wrong or not!
> 
> This story is set sometime between the Voyager episodes 'Coda' and 'Blood Fever'.

Greensleeves  
By A Lanart  
ST: Voy/HL X-Over. Another in the O'Niall Chronicles  
Rating: PG. This is just a gentle little thing. K/f  
Disclaimer: Star Trek stuff:- Paramount's,   
Highlander stuff:- Davis/Panzer's  
Henry VIII, Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn:- History's.  
Siannon and the story (for which I get *nothing* OK?)are mine.  
Historical liberties are taken just for fun.

~*~

Greensleeves

*

 

_  
Alas my love, you do me wrong  
To cast me off discourteously;  
And I have loved you oh so long  
Delighting in your company._

 

Siannon heard the notes from Harry's clarinet drifting mournfully through the door to his quarters. She paused for a moment, listening.   
A small, secretive smile crept across her face as she realised what he was playing. If only he knew... She gave herself a shake, and   
entered in the code for the door before someone came across her hovering outside Harry Kim's room grinning like a lunatic. Now that   
would certainly brighten someone's day, as if there wasn't enough scuttlebutt going around about her and Harry anyway. Still smiling,   
she entered the room accompanied by the liquid music of Harry's clarinet.

 

_Greensleeves was my delight,  
Greensleeves my heart of gold  
Greensleeves was my heart of joy  
And who but my Lady Greensleeves._

 

He had his back to the door, remaining unaware of her presence. She moved into the room just enough to let the door shut behind her, he   
still did not notice, being far too engrossed in his music. She regarded him tenderly for a while, silently caressing him with her eyes, watching as his graceful hands moved on the instrument, gently coaxing the notes from it, his expression rapt. Siannon loved to watch him play without him realising she was there, he looked so unselfconsciously beautiful. She approached him as the last phrases of the piece faded into the well of silence between them, encircled his waist with both arms, and hugged him close, resting her head against his shoulder with her face turned towards his neck. She could see the smile that curved his lips as he removed the clarinet from his mouth.

"Greensleeves, huh?" She said. "That's very traditional of you isn't it?" Harry put down his clarinet, turning so he could hold her properly. He bent his head slightly to kiss her with his own brand of gentle thoroughness, before disengaging to gaze deep into her eyes.

"It reminds me of you," he said softly. Siannon hurriedly stifled the snort of disbelief that was her initial reaction. After all, she didn't want to offend him when he was being such a hopeless romantic. He just did not realise the irony of the statement.

"Any occasion in particular?" She managed to ask sensibly. Harry grinned at her, as near to leering as he ever got.

"Yes, actually, there is. Remember talent night?"

"How could I forget."

"*That* dress."

"*That* dress?" Still grinning, Harry led her over to the couch and sat down, pulling her onto his knee.

"Oh come on Siannon, you can't tell me you either didn't notice or didn't expect the reactions you got when you walked in. After all, you've got very nice legs, and you just happened to be showing most of them off. I certainly noticed." She gave Harry a cheeky grin and ruffled his hair.

"I know."

"Still," he mused, "You do look rather fetching in green velvet, no matter how little of it you're actually wearing." He pinched her bottom. Siannon yelped.

"Terrible man!" He grinned again.

"I know." Lifting her off his knee, he placed her back on the couch. He rose, and wandered over to the replicator. "Drink?" He asked. She nodded.

"Cranberry juice, please." He brought the drinks over and plunked himself down next to her, handing her glass over.

"I've always liked that song. I used to think it was so romantic. A King writing a song for the woman he loved? I didn't think you could get more romantic than that. Then." Harry took a mouthful of his drink, "Then I found out what happened to Anne Boleyn. I was heartbroken. Horrible way to die, beheading." Next him Siannon shuddered.

"You can say that again." Harry realised what he had just said.

"Siannon, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." He turned towards her, apology written in every line of his body. She smiled gravely at him.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. It's not something that you tend to think about, is it?" She stared into her drink, watching the red liquid sloshing around in the glass. "What makes it worse is that it could have been me." Harry was dumbfounded.

"What!"

"Greensleeves wasn't written for Anne Boleyn. It was written for me. If I'd been as young as I appear, Henry would have turned my head completely, and it would have been me who lost it to the executioners sword, not her. Poor Anne, she didn't deserve to die like that."

~*~

Sometime in the mid 1520's.

 

_I have been ready at your hand  
To grant whatever thou would'st crave;  
I have waged both life and land  
Your love and goodwill for to have._

 

Siannon stared impassively into the wine in her cup, inhaling the spices, watching the red liquid swirl. He was playing *that* song   
again, the traditional melody beginning to grate on her nerves, but there was no way she could ask him to stop. Carefully, she looked up, meeting the Queen's eyes. They were full of sympathy for her, and Siannon thanked the instincts that had led her to reject all of the King's advances. Catherine was so rarely at court now, tending to keep herself away from her husband's displeasure, but her presence had been required by the visit of several of her Spanish relatives, in fact, she had been summoned. For this, Henry still needed her. With the arrival of Catherine, Siannon had been surprised to find she had made a friend without being aware of it.

*

The Queen had heard all about her husband's pursuit of the Irish bard, known as Lady Aislin, at court, had heard the stories of this woman's repeated rejections of him, apparently always charming and respectful, but rejections nevertheless. That she had managed to do so without incurring Henry's formidable wrath was intriguing in and of itself, but to do so while managing to hold a favoured position at court was nothing short of miraculous. Catherine had determined to at least make the acquaintance of this unusual woman and seized the opportunity presented by her relatives' visit to do just that.

*

It was the music that had captivated Henry, of course, and the music that kept her near him. And now, now he was writing *songs* for her. His favourite was one that although the tune was an old one, the words were all his, and he had not even finished it yet. Siannon sighed. If she heard him sing 'Greensleeves' once more, she was going to run from court screaming like a mad woman. She had even stopped wearing green, in the hope that it may have some effect, had returned what she could of his gifts, all in vain of course. He finished the song, much to her relief, and moved to speak with his retainers. She gratefully took a mouthful of the mulled wine,   
letting the taste roll over her tongue. No doubt he would ask her to play next, he had already had the great harp brought in.

 

_Thy petticoat of sendle white  
With gold embroidered gorgeously;  
Thy petticoat of silk and white  
And these I bought gladly._

 

"Lady Aislin." Siannon looked up, it was the Earl of Derby. "The King requests the pleasure of hearing you play." She rose from her stool, smoothing her skirts around her. she thought uncharitably. Seating herself at the harp, she remembered a song in the odd language of the Basques of northern Spain, a language she had heard that the Queen understood, though she was certain no-one else in court did, including the King. It was risky, as the song was satirical to say the least, and would not reflect very well upon the King. Still, she could not resist it. While she might not agree with the Queen's views on many things, she respected her for the graciousness she showed about this whole situation. It must have been hard knowing that her husband was a womanising philanderer, and doubly hard knowing that everyone else knew it too. Siannon began to play, the light and laughter visible in the Queen's eyes making the risk worth it. What crowned it was the enthusiastic applause from the King, unaware that she had probably given him one of the worst insults of his life. She smiled demurely, and curtseyed when the King approached.

"Lady Aislin, your playing never fails to enrapture me. I would give you a token of my thanks, a gift in return for this gift you have given us." She kept her head and eyes lowered.

"Sire, your thanks is all the gift I require."

"That you most surely have, my lady." One of the retainers appeared at his shoulder, to whisper in the Kings ear. He nodded once, and the retainer left. The King moved away from Siannon, to the centre of the hall.

"My friends, matters of State preclude from enjoying the rest of our gathering. Please, continue." He strode from the hall, his retainers closing in behind him. Siannon drew a deep breath. Saved again. As she moved back towards her place she noticed a small dark woman staring at her with raw envy in her beautiful obsidian eyes.

"You took a grave risk there, Aislin. What if someone else had understood that song?" The Queen was smiling gently, her eyes still retaining the suspicious brightness of suppressed laughter.

"It would still have been worth it, your majesty, there is little enough in your life to make you smile. I am happy I could provide such a thing. I am curious however."

"Of what?" Siannon indicated the small figure she had noticed.

"That woman over there. Who is she?"

"Oh, *that* one. That is Anne Boleyn. Rumour has it that she is about to supplant you in my lord Henry's affections. You, my dear, are by far the better woman. Now, I think it would be prudent of us to leave." She raised her voice slightly. "Ladies?" Queen Catherine rose, and sedately made her way back to her apartments, her ladies in waiting clustered around her. Siannon looked across the room and met the intense gaze of the Lady Anne, trying to show in her eyes that Lady Anne was welcome to the King if she wanted him. The dark eyes across the room widened with a flicker of understanding, before being respectfully lowered back down.

~*~

Siannon frowned at Harry. He was chuckling quietly to himself, shaking his head.

"What?" She said. He raised his head to look at her with laughter filled eyes.

"You never cease to amaze me. First I find out you were friends with Mozart, then Kiri Te Kanawa; now it's King Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. Next you'll be telling me that Leonardo da Vinci was your husband or that you were the original model for the Venus de Milo." She gave Harry a wide grin, her green eyes sparkling.

"You're quite safe there. I never actually met either da Vinci or Michelangelo. And besides," she pouted at him, "I look *nothing* like   
the Venus de Milo." Harry doubled up laughing at that point, unable to take any more. Siannon tried to look offended, but Harry's laughter was infectious. Soon they were holding onto each other, almost hysterical with laughter, tears pouring down their faces.

"Actually," Harry gasped, "I think you bear a significant resemblance to her...from the back." He dissolved again, clinging onto Siannon for dear life, as she swatted him across the head.

"Brat."

A while later, once they had managed to calm down, and Harry was putting away his clarinet, he asked curiously,

"So what did you do?"

"What did I do when?" Siannon was by the replicator, disposing of their glasses.

"In Henry's court, after Anne Boleyn arrived." She turned round to smile at him, leaned against the wall.

"It was a bit of an anticlimax really. Henry had already started to lose interest in me, and with the arrival of someone so much more receptive to his charms, he turned his attention to her."

"That proves one thing to me."

"It does?"

"Oh yes. He obviously didn't appreciate quality when he saw it, not like me." She pushed herself away from the wall and moved towards him, wrapping her arms around him.

"Harry Steven Liu Kim, you're bad for me." He hugged her back, grinning.

"Oh really? *I* thought I was good for you. Now come on, tell me what happened."

~*~

Sometime in the late 1520's

 

"There is one thing I still have trouble understanding, Aislin." Siannon lifted her head from the lute she had been checking over, turned her attention to the woman sitting on the other side of the window seat.

"And what would that be, my lady?"

"You could have had him, and yet." Anne shrugged gracefully. Siannon smiled.

"Kings are not for the likes of me. I have my own place in the world, he has his, and the two are completely incompatible. Besides, the only thing King Henry found truly captivating about me was my music, and he still has that upon occasion." She turned her attention back to the lute, started to tune it.

"They say you still see the Queen." The words were curt, accusing.

"I do."

"Why?" Siannon sighed, set aside the lute, and folded her hands in her lap before turning her full attention onto the conversation. There was no way Anne was going to let this rest, and she couldn't even ask her to leave. To do so would cause offence to far too many people, and she could ill afford to do that as her position in court, as was everyone else's in those days, was precarious to say the least.

"While I do not agree whole heartedly with what the Queen is doing, she is a woman who has borne disappointment all her life. If my company, and my music bring her some comfort, who am I to deny her that. I have no influence in court, so she does not expect me to help with her schemes and consequently my contact with her is tolerated by the King. Everyone here knows I hold myself apart from the politics of court, so I get to keep my freedom."

"You lead a strange life, Aislin."

"The same could be said of you, my lady."

"I suppose it could. For all that, I am happy. I never expected to have the love of a King. Did you know he wrote a song for me?"

"A song?"

"He calls it 'Greensleeves'." She picked up the lute, finished tuning it, and slowly started to pluck out an accompaniment. She began to sing in her soft, sweet voice.

 

_Greensleeves was my delight,  
Greensleeves my heart of gold  
Greensleeves was my heart of joy  
And who but my Lady Greensleeves._

 

As soon as she heard the opening bars, Siannon knew she had to get out of court, preferably out of the country, and the sooner the better. She had had enough, all she had to do was wait for the right opportunity to present itself.

Opportunity presented itself in the person of another immortal. Siannon had been spending some time with Queen Catherine, when she felt the tell-tale tingle of another immortal along her nerves. There was a knock at the door, Siannon went to answer it.

"Your majesty, there is a gentleman to see you. He *says* he comes from your nephew, King Charles."

"His name, Mortimer?"

"Juan Sanchez..." She waved an imperious hand.

"...Villa-Lobos Ramirez, my nephew's chief metallurgist. Yes, I know him. Send him in. Now, Mortimer." Siannon drew a sigh of relief, and offered up a quiet prayer of thanks to whichever God or Goddess was listening. She had known Ramirez a long time.

He entered with his usual ostentatious flurry, and bowed grandly to the Queen.

"Your majesty. Your nephew sends his greetings and felicitations." She waved him up.

"And no doubt asked you to check that wicked Henry was not mistreating his old aunt. As you can see, I am comfortable, though my health is not what it once was, and I have good company from time to time. Let me introduce you. Ramirez, this is Lady Aislin O'Niall, from Ireland." Ramirez turned towards Siannon, doffing his hat once more. He winked at her.

"Aislin," he said, "An unusual name." Siannon smiled at him, curtseyed.

"My grandmother's, good sir." Ramirez twinkled at her, obviously enjoying himself. The discussions moved on to goings on at both the Spanish and English courts, and more general news. Eventually, the Queen requested that both Siannon and Ramirez leave, as she was tired. They went to walk in the gardens.

"Ramirez, I've got to get out of here. If I stay much longer I'm going to go mad. Anne Boleyn is probably going to be the next Queen and although she is pleasant enough to me at present, she does not like me. Put that together with the fact that she has a malicious streak as wide as the Nile, and I don't think I can count on my safety much longer. The political situation is murky to say the least, and since the shock of the divorce was over, feelings against Catherine have risen alarmingly, and I'm known to be her friend. If ever there was a time for me to cut my losses and vanish, this is it."

"I think you're overestimating the danger, Siannon, but it never hurt to be a little cautious. How would you like to go travelling with me? I've heard Scotland is beautiful at this time of year."

"It is if you're a fish. Who have you heard about?"

"A young man named MacLeod, from Glenfinnan I believe. It is rumour only, but I thought I would make a journey to see if it was true. Will you come?"

"Yes, I'll come. Anything to get away from this cess-pit of intrigue. I know that part of Scotland, they still have that ingrained Celtic respect for a musician. Even being half drowned is better than worrying about losing my head because the King decided he did not like it attached to the rest of me anymore. When do we leave?"

"As soon as I can make arrangements."

~*~

"MacLeod.. Isn't he one of your friends?" Harry asked. Siannon had settled on the floor between his feet so he could indulge in one of   
his favourite pastimes. Gently he unbraided her hair with careful fingers, running them through the dark, wavy mass.

"Mmm, you can do that forever," she sighed gratefully. "And yes, both of them are."

"Both of them?"

"There're two MacLeods, Connor and Duncan. You're thinking of Duncan, but Connor's my friend too. It was Connor that Ramirez wanted to check up on all that time ago. I didn't actually meet up with Connor until the 1600's, by which time Ramirez was dead. I still miss Ramirez now. He was so... so... *irrepressible*. He was over a thousand years older than me, but had never stopped experiencing the utter joy of being alive. He taught me so much, but then it was in his nature to teach." She sighed again, this time with regret for what could never be. Harry began to tenderly massage her scalp and she leaned against him, drawing comfort from his vibrant warmth.

"That journey up to Scotland was the last time I spent an appreciable amount of time him. I had such fun, laughing at him."

"Laughing? Why?... Not that you really need an excuse, do you?"

"You would've been in hysterics yourself, if you'd been there. Ramirez was Egyptian in origin, and was convinced that the entire country was populated by unwashed barbarians with no regard for the 'niceties of civilisation'. Scotland didn't go to any great lengths to dispel that illusion for him, either. The worst thing was, I still couldn't get away from that song. Everywhere we went, it had arrived before us, until we reached the Highlands."

"Poor you." He worked his way down her neck and shoulders, digging in when he found a particularly knotted muscle. "What *has* the Doctor had you doing today? You're an absolute mess."

"Too many hours hunched over the analyser, and then the DNA resequencer after that. Still, I managed to finish it all tonight, that's why I couldn't get to the mess hall to meet you." She relaxed back into Harry's soothing touch, head tipped back, eyes closed.

"Then I make things worse by playing a song you hate *and* telling you it reminds me of you. Sorry."

"I don't hate it, I never did. It's just that I heard it incessantly for about six years. Even your favourite song's charms wear a bit thin after that. Besides, hearing *you* play it was a total contrast. Henry never loved me, in fact I don't think he ever truly loved anyone apart from himself. But you... you put your heart into it, and that's where the difference lies." Harry dipped his head to drop a kiss on her nose.

"And you call *me* an incurable romantic." Siannon tilted her head back further, so she could see his face, smiled at him.

"But it's true. And you know what else?"

"No. What?."

"No-one has ever sung it to me since then either." Harry leaned forward to wrap his arms firmly around her.

"Is that a hint?" he whispered softly in her ear. She turned her face to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Yes."

"Oh, okay then." He straightened up, one hand cupping her face, the other stroking her hair. He drew a deep breath and began to sing, in a warm baritone that managed to convey the entire depth of his feelings.

 

_Alas my love, you do me wrong  
To cast me off discourteously;  
And I have loved you oh so long  
Delighting in your company._

 

I have been ready at your hand  
To grant whatever thou would'st crave;  
I have waged both life and land  
Your love and goodwill for to have.

 

Thy petticoat of sendle white  
With gold embroidered gorgeously;  
Thy petticoat of silk and white  
And these I bought gladly.

 

Greensleeves was my delight,  
Greensleeves my heart of gold  
Greensleeves was my heart of joy  
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.

* * *

End


End file.
